


Collider

by starwheel



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Rough Sex, Self-Lubrication, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwheel/pseuds/starwheel
Summary: Sex pollen + omega in heat.Miles is out of his mind. He incapacitates Peter, ties him to a bed and enjoys Peter's body while Peter is too weak to fight back.Peter is very aroused the whole time and feels guilty about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Skip to chapter 2 if you just want the porn :D
> 
> I'd originally planned more plot, but in the end it was slowing things down too much. I chopped stuff out, so sorry if it reads a little...choppy.

Peter pulls his mask off, squats down in front of Miles. 

“You hurt? Let me see.” Peter touches Miles' chin, tilting his head up to get a look at him.

“I'm fine, man,” Miles says, but his voice comes out weird and wobbly.

Peter's the one who looks busted up - a bruise already dark and swelling on his cheekbone, some dried blood round his nostril. He's looking Miles over all intense.

“Can you stand? It looked like you fell funny when that thing hit you - ”

“I know I screwed up, okay?” Miles says hotly, his eyes stinging now. He looks away from Peter, doesn't want him to see.

“What?” Peter blinks. “What are you talking about, kid?”

“It was my fault,” Miles says. “I keep screwing everything up.” A big tear rolls down his cheek, and just like that he’s crying.

“Kid!” Peter sounds genuinely stricken. He shuffles closer, his knee bumping Miles’ leg. “Miles. You're doing amazing. Some nights are just like this, it's normal -”

“It’s not just that - ” Miles gulps a quick breath and another, embarrassed with how his breath keeps hitching. “It’s - it’s everything. I didn't finish my part of the project with Ganke, he had to do it on his own, I know he's pissed at me. I had to see the school councillor because my grades dipped. My dad's already on me about college requirements. I don’t know what I’m doing - ”

“You think anyone knows what they’re doing at your age?” Peter holds him by his arms, gives him a small shake. “Look at you. You just saved those people’s lives tonight.”

“Yeah, and if you hadn't of shown up?”

“Oh no,” Peter says flatly. “Don’t try to sell me that. You would have managed just fine without me.” He puts his hand on the side of Miles' neck, rubbing his thumb there warm and comforting. “What's really going on, where's all this come from?”

Miles sniffs, shakes his head.

“Huh?” Peter prompts.

“I don't know, man... Me and my dad had a fight.” Miles wipes his face angrily. “Man, I’m sorry - ”

“Don't apologise,” Peter says, his voice a low rumble, no joke in his voice, it's just low and masculine. “What'd you fight about? School stuff?”

“It's stupid,” Miles says thickly. “I don't know why I'm...” 

He feels a twinge of guilt in his gut. It's not just about school. He knows what's really upsetting him. The thing he hasn't allowed himself to stop and think about since he got the results. His status test. The fact that he's an omega and he's going to have to tell his parents eventually, going to have to come clean to Peter. 

He's been dreading telling his dad most of all, dreading the look on his face. Along with everything else that's been making things so awkward between them lately, this had to get dumped on top of the stack too? Was it so much to ask that Miles could just be an alpha like his dad? Like Peter?

“It's not stupid,” Peter says. “You love your dad. You want to make him proud.”

“I feel like I'm always letting him down,” Miles says thickly, his throat tight. His mouth twists up involuntarily. He can't help it, can't hide it. It's humiliating, coming apart in front of Peter like this. He drops his head, butts his forehead against Peter's chest, hiding his face there, his eyes screwed up tight.

Peter doesn't move, and neither does Miles. Miles' neck and face flush hot with embarrassment. He tries to breathe quieter, hates how his breath keeps hitching. His forehead is resting against Peter's chest but he should be sitting back, he should be saying something to undo this, make it not-weird, because him and Peter don't do wolf touch-bonding like this, not all up close like this.

Then Peter’s arm comes around him, Peter's hand settles on the nape of Miles' neck, kneading and squeezing, his touch deft and steadying.

“Hey. It's okay.”

Miles relaxes by degrees, slowly starts to rub and nuzzle his face against Peter's chest, the material of the suit warm and smooth. He breathes. It's the familiar scent of Peter, reassuring, calming. Peter's hand goes on massaging the nape of his neck, anchoring him.

“It's okay,” Peter says again. 

Miles knows it's wrong to let Peter comfort him when he's been lying to him about his status, but right now he doesn't want to face up to it. He doesn't want to think about anything.

They stay like that for a while, Peter crouched close, one hand on Miles' neck, the other rubbing slow up and down Miles' back, while Miles nuzzles Peter’s chest.

It's nice. They don’t do stuff like this normally, not drawn out like this.

Miles is kind of lost in it, just breathing against Peter, sleepy and relaxed. From time to time Peter noses at Miles' neck, his hair, smelling him, friendly.

Peter figures out it's weird before Miles does.

“Miles...”

It takes Miles a moment to realise that Peter has lifted his hands off him, has gone completely stiff.

Peter holds Miles away by the shoulders so he can look at him. Peter’s stare is guarded, calculating, disbelieving, and a little like he’s been smacked up the back of the head with a brick.

“What?” Miles says.

Peter gets up fast. Steps backwards fast.

“What is it?” Miles wipes his damp lashes quickly in the crook of his elbow.

“Was that test result you showed me real?”

Miles’ mind goes blank for a second. It seems impossible that Peter has pinpointed the precise source of Miles' misery out of nowhere, especially when Miles had taken such measures to make the lie convincing - scanned the results, edited them in Photoshop, printed the page off. Peter hadn't doubted it for a second when Miles had shown it to him.

Miles is on his feet as well. He works to keep his face blank. 

“My status test?”

“Yes your status test.” Peter's eyes are fixed on him, boring into him. “Was it fake?”

“What?” Miles forces a laugh. “How would I even fake that - ”

“Miles.”

“You're being weird, man!”

Peter talks with a careful calm. “I’m not gonna be angry, I just need you to tell me the truth. Did you fake the test?”

Miles manages to keep up his front of irritated confusion for about five seconds more before he crumbles. 

“Jesus,” Peter groans, shoving his hands into his hair. “Miles...” 

“I was going to tell you the truth, I just needed time - ”

“You’re an omega?”

Miles nods miserably.

“Have you had your heat yet?”

Miles shakes his head.

Peter wheels around in a tight circle, clasps his hands at the back of his neck. He stands like that with his head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment.

“Okay,” he says quietly. He turns and crosses the room. He picks up Miles' backpack off the floor. “You're going home.” 

“What?”

“Get your stuff, you’re leaving.”

“No way. You said I could stay over!”

“Right, because you lied to me that you were a beta.” Peter starts shoving Miles' stuff into the bag, his back to Miles, muttering to himself, “How do you miss something like that? Kid's scent’s been like this for a week at least - longer. Fake test - oldest trick in the book! Stupid, _stupid_...”

“You said it didn't matter!” Miles hates how his eyes are getting teary again, his vision shimmering.

“It doesn’t, unless you're an omega, in which case you're going to have your first heat - ” Peter's got his arm tangled in the cord of Miles' phone charger as he's trying to shove it in the bag. “ - meaning you need to be at home because you could come on at any time - ”

“I won't!”

“ _Yes_ , you will - ”

“I've got it taken care of, okay?”

Peter pauses. He looks back at Miles. “Taken care of, what does that mean, _taken care of?_ ”

Miles presses his lips together. Peter rounds on him.

“Are you taking something? Pills?” 

Miles stays silent, squares up as Peter gets near him, ready to fight his corner.

“Kid,” Peter says sharply. 

Usually Miles finds it funny when Peter tries to be tough with him, those rare occasions when he'll make a half-assed attempt to lay down the law. When it comes to disciplining Miles, he's always just seemed like a substitute teacher in over his head.

Right now though, there's nothing remotely funny about the look on Peter's face.

“In there,” Miles says quietly, pointing to the front compartment of his backpack, still in Peter's hands.

Peter pulls out the blister pack of pills and turns it over in his hand, reading the foil. “Where’d you get these?”

“A kid at school.”

“A kid at school,” Peter repeats, his voice eerily mild. He drops the backpack and goes into the kitchen, to the trash can. He stomps the foot peddle, causing the lid to smack against the wall with a noisy metallic clang, then he drops the pill pack in.

“Hey!” Miles shouts. “I need those!”

“You can't block your first heat,” Peter says. “What are they teaching you kids?” He stands for a moment considering Miles through the doorway. “You haven’t told your parents, have you?” 

Miles opens his mouth, meaning to come up with some evasion. He takes too long.

Peter huffs a quiet laugh but he looks seriously unamused. He comes back into the living room, bends and picks up Miles’ backpack, tosses it to Miles. “Let's go.” 

“You’re seriously kicking me out?”

“I'm taking you home.” Peter peels back the sleeve on his suit, adjusting the setting on his teleporter.

“You wouldn't be acting this way if I was an alpha or a beta! You freak out when I tell you and you wonder why I didn't want to tell you - ”

“I'm not freaking out!” Peter jabs his finger repeatedly into the teleporter screen. “Stupid thing, tiny buttons -”

“You said it wouldn't matter, you said a hero doesn't have to be an alpha, you said an omega can be Spiderman - ”

“And that's all true -”

“Then why can't I stay?”

“I don’t think I need to spell that out.” Peter catches Miles' eye. “Becuase it’s _inappropriate_ , Miles.” He closes the distance between them. “You don't lie about stuff like this. You have no idea what a first heat is like for an omega - ” 

“You said the test wasn't going to change anything - you promised.”

“It doesn't.” Peter takes a hold of Miles’ shoulders. “But you can't be here when you’re on your first heat.”

“I’m not even on heat!” 

“Yes, you are.” Peter takes his hands off him.

Miles opens and closes his mouth, flummoxed. “How do you know?”

Peter just looks at him.

“I feel fine,” Miles says.

“You’re emotional.”

Miles turns his head away. “Okay. Thanks. That makes me feel great - ”

“It's normal -” 

“Maybe you're the one being emotional,” Miles says, his face hot.

“I can smell it,” Peter says quietly.

Miles zips up his backpack just to do something. He can't look at Peter. “I can get home on my own fine.” 

“Not gonna happen, kid.”

*

They find the house empty when they zap to Miles’.

Miles pulls on some clothes over his suit and throws himself down on his bed, his arms crossed, facing the wall. He hears Peter move around the room, snap the light on.

“Leave it off,” Miles says, his voice monotone.

Peter clicks the light off again.

“Look...I know you're pissed at me...” Miles hears Peter pull out the desk chair and sit down.

“I just want to sleep,” Miles says, staring ahead at the wall.

“You've gotta tell them tonight though, Miles, okay?”

“Well my dad's got patrol, what do you want me to do? You want me to call him? Might as well call him right now and get it over with, right?” Miles sits up like he's really going to get his phone out.

“You're not gonna call him now,” Peter says, sounding tired, and that just makes Miles angrier. “Miles, I get that this is hard - ” 

“No. You don't.” Miles lies down again, twisting over onto his side to face the wall. “Look, man, I said I'd do it - I'll do it. I'll tell them. Just...leave me alone.”

There's a pause. The desk chair creaks as Peter gets up.

“Okay.” Peter comes over to the bed. “You know I've still gotta give you a command...”

Miles digs his fingers hard into his arms. “Do whatever you want.”

“ _Stay here. Tell your parents you’re an omega,_ ” Peter says. It's a direct command, and Miles feels it land heavy on him like a blanket.

Miles says nothing, refusing to acknowledge that he has to obey it.

His spider sense prickles subtly, and a second later the front door bangs.

“Miles?” his mom's voice calls.

“Hey, mom,” Miles calls back. He doesn't move, doesn't turn to see if Peter's leaving or not.

“It’ll be okay,” Peter says quietly.

Miles just maintains his sullen silence. He can sense Peter's still there, hesitating.

In the kitchen, his mom is putting bags on the table, getting plates out of the cupboard.

“You'll come see me in a few days?” Peter says.

Again, Miles says nothing.

Peter's so quiet slipping out the window that Miles doesn't hear him go, but he can feel it in his body when he's alone.

He gets up and slams the window shut.

*

Ghostly light fills the room. There's a dull thump against the window. Miles gives a yell of surprise. Outside is one of the weird floating jellyfish-things, hanging there like a plastic bag caught in the wind, electricity crackling over it ominously.

“Miles,” his mom calls. 

“Uh - ” Miles hears her footsteps approaching his bedroom door just as the jellyfish-thing thumps into the window again.

“Just - just a minute, mom! Give me a second!” He scrambles to get one of his web shooters on his wrist, runs to the window and tries to get it open only for the sash to jam in the frame. The jellyfish-thing sinks slowly out of sight, its weird glowing light flickering through the slats of the fire escape ladder. “No!” Miles hisses. That thing could electrocute someone.

Miles smacks his fist against the wooden window frame, trying to wrench the sash up while also trying to moderate how much strength he uses - it would suck to break the glass.

The window gives suddenly, a screech of old wood and a loud thump as the sash slams up into the frame.

“What was that?” his mom calls.

“Nothing, mom!” Miles leans out, looking for the jellyfish. He puts a foot out onto the fire escape, craning around. He can't see it anywhere.

“La comida se está enfriando,” his mom calls as she heads back to the kitchen.

Miles slips back into his bedroom. He needs to go get that thing before it kills somebody. 

His spider sense flares just as the room fills with light. He wheels around as the jellyfish shoots in through the open window like a volleyball. It smacks him square in the chest.

“Ho - shit!” Miles punches the thing. There's an explosion of phosphorescent powder, all over Miles' hoodie, all over his hand. For a second Miles is blinded, blinking fast. He keeps his hands up, holds a crouched defensive pose as he waits for his vision to clear. 

The room comes back into focus. He spots the jellyfish lying on the carpet, sad and saggy like a half-deflated helium balloon. Its glowing body slowly un-crumples, the light in its veins gradually dims.

“What the hell?” Miles whispers. He hadn’t exactly meant to kill it, but it had all happened too fast for him to think it through.

He looks at his hand, his hoodie, the powder glowing faintly.

He uses one of his sneakers to scoop the jellyfish into a bag, then he webs the bag all over and kicks it into his closet. The messy, powdery part of the carpet is easily covered up by his rug. He stays kneeling on the floor for a moment, feeling hot and prickly and weird.

“Not now, man, come on,” he groans, adjusting himself in his sweat pants. He’s getting a boner. What does that mean? Just his weird body being weird? Or is this the start of his heat?

 _Tell your parents you’re an omega,_ the echo of Peter's voice comes into his mind.

“Shut up,” Miles mutters, but he shoves to his feet like an invisible string has yanked him up. He wrenches his bedroom door open.

“Miles!” his mom gasps when she sees him come into the kitchen. “What happened? Your clothes!”

“Science experiment,” Miles says jerkily. “Mom, listen, I - ”

_Tell your parents -_

Miles slaps both hands to his forehead. “I just - have to tell you - ”

“What is it?” His mom puts down the placemat and cutlery she was setting out. “¿Te sientes mal, mijo?”

Miles shies from her as she goes to touch him. “I’m fine.” 

_Tell -_

“No!” Miles yells. “I mean - I just, uh - need to take a shower and wash this stuff off!”

He hurries out the kitchen, down the hall to the bathroom. He almost falls over on the way, the floor pitching under his feet.

“This sucks,” he mutters, still struggling to keep his balance as gets in the bathroom and pulls his clothes off. He turns the cold water on, steps under it quickly with a grimace, plants both hands on the cool tile.

 _Tell your parents..._ Peter’s alpha command again, ringing in his head.

“Just stop!” Miles says out loud, surprising himself.

He’s a little amazed he’s resisting the command. In the time they’ve known each other, Peter’s only given him two other direct commands, and Miles had always felt compelled to obey them almost immediately, just like with commands from his dad. For some reason though, this time it’s different.

*

Peter told him to stay here, but he doesn’t have to listen to Peter right now.

“Mom, I gotta go to Ganke's after all,” he finds himself saying, stopping in at the kitchen, dressed to go out, his backpack on, his phone in his hand. He’s got his gear in his backpack.

“What - now?” His mom stops with her fork halfway to her mouth. “It’s late, Miles - ”

“I know, but I forgot I’m supposed to be helping him with this project.” The lie rolls out of Miles’ mouth easy, like it’s someone else doing the talking and he’s just a spectator. He feels like he’s floating as he crosses the kitchen, presses a quick kiss to his mom's cheek.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Miles' mom is a regular human, so she has no A/B/O status, hence she isn't able to smell what's happening to him.
> 
> -The jellyfish pollen stuff basically just sent Miles' id into overdrive.


	2. Chapter 2

_(Skipped scene: Miles keeps blacking out. He steals a drug/poison from a lab. Peter has warned him about this particular drug as it has strong effects on spider-people.)_

*

Miles clings to the wall outside Peter's kitchen window. He can see Peter inside, standing barefoot at the kitchen counter, looking at his laptop, his back to Miles. Peter's wearing sweats and a t-shirt, his hair looks a little damp like he’s recently showered.

*

The apartment's a lot nicer than the dump Peter was living in when Miles first met him.

Miles crawls silent and slow across the living room ceiling. Peter's asleep on the couch below, washed in the light of the tv. The babble of voices from the tv help cover any noise from Miles. He'd banked everything on the fact that he didn't seem to trip Peter's spider sense, based on the couple of times he'd successfully managed to sneak up on him.

Miles breathes easier once he's in the kitchen. He stays on the ceiling, keeps his feet stuck while he allows the rest of his body to swing down. 

He hangs there for a moment and gets the case out of his pocket, takes out the syringe from inside, removes the cap off the needle. The syringe is ready-loaded with blue liquid. 

He feels confusion wash over him for a second. His invisibility blinks off and he's standing on the ceiling in Peter's kitchen, looking around in confusion. Why is he here? Why's he got a syringe in his hand?

 _For Peter,_ something inside tells him. 

No, that can't be right. He'd never hurt Peter.

The moment of clarity passes.

Miles hears the tv go silent in the other room. The clatter of the tv remote on the table. A pulse of adrenaline. Miles blinks invisible again. 

He needs to incapacitate Peter.

There's an empty beer bottle on the countertop. Miles knocks it over with his hand. It rolls off the counter - smashes on the floor.

There’s a thump from the living room, a muffled _"Shit!"_

Peter slouches into the kitchen. His eyes land on the broken bottle.

Miles’ heart is pounding as Peter moves closer. Then he's so close Miles can feel the heat off his body.  

Time seems to slow down as Miles sticks Peter in the neck with the needle of the syringe, depresses the plunger fast. Peter jerks backwards, the needle slips out. 

Peter staggers. He claps his hand to his neck, throws out his other arm trying to catch his balance, but he's already going down on his knees.

Miles drops from the ceiling and lands lightly in front of Peter, blinking off his invisibility. He puts his arms around Peter to keep him from falling flat on his face.

“Miles?” Peter blinks at him in dazed confusion, his hand fisting in the back of Miles’ hoodie.

Miles slaps the syringe down on the counter top. He shuffles around behind Peter, gets his arms under Peter's arms and starts dragging him across the kitchen floor. Peter's a big guy, but it's not difficult. 

“No - ” Peter twists out of Miles' hold. Miles backs off, retreats to stand in the doorway. Peter groans, his head bent, on his hands and knees.

“What’d you give me? Miles?”

Miles stays back, breathing fast, watching Peter. Peter lifts his head and looks at him.

“What’s happening?” Peter says, his words starting to slur. 

“It's okay,” Miles says.

Peter sits up and tries to get his arm up on the counter. He pulls a plate down, it smashes on the floor, then he sinks back onto his ass. Miles moves in on him. He slings Peter’s arm round his neck and drags him through the living room, to the bedroom. 

He lowers Peter carefully onto the bed. Peter rolls over slow and boneless onto his back.

Miles is trembling with adrenaline still. He knows it’s wrong. What he’s doing to Peter is wrong. Treating an alpha like this is wrong.

“Miles...” Peter reaches for him and Miles moves closer, lets Peter grab him by the arm. “The hell're you doin?” Peter blinks hard like he’s struggling to get his eyes to focus on Miles’ face.

“Don’t be mad,” Miles says.

“I'm not.” Peter breathes thickly. “I’m not. Jesus.” He drops his head back, his eyes closed. “You’re in heat.”

Miles toes off his sneakers, pulls off his hoodie and drops it on the floor, then he climbs onto the bed, onto Peter, who grunts. 

Miles leans down and rubs his nose and mouth under Peter’s jaw. 

“Oh, no,” Peter says. “No, no, no. Miles.” He puts his hand on Miles' shoulder, pushing him away. “Miles, listen to me. Something's happened to you -”

It’s easy for Miles to grab Peter’s hand and pin it to the headboard, spray a jet of web fluid at it to hold it there.

“Miles - no!” Peter tries to yank his hand free, the powerful muscles up his arm tensing, the well-worn cotton t-shirt he’s wearing clinging to his bicep, his warm powerful torso twisting underneath Miles, almost knocking him off. 

Miles pins Peter's other hand to the mattress and watches with interest as he struggles. 

It’s strangely fascinating to see how weak he is. It’s just like Peter had said all those months back when he'd shown Miles the stuff confiscated from the lab - a drug that would weaken Spider-man.

It's perfect.

Peter twists his body sharply again, trying to unseat Miles, and he almost succeeds, but then Miles is wrestling Peter’s other hand up above his head, webbing it to the headboard.

Peter lies panting for a moment. Miles rests his hands on the man's broad heaving chest. Peter opens his eyes and fixes Miles with look.

“ _Let me go, Miles,_ ” he says. It’s a direct command.

“No,” Miles says, laughter bubbling up, almost too much to hold back. Miles puts his fist against his mouth to hide his grin. “I'm sorry, man,” he snorts. The look on Peter's face just makes it more funny. “I don't know why...but that aint gonna work on me...right now...” 

“Miles, you have to listen to me,” Peter says, his voice level and almost calm. He swallows, his head tipped back against the duvet, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

Miles isn't laughing anymore. He's shifting on top of Peter restlessly, his hands on Peter's chest again as he moves his hips slow, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit on top of the man. 

“I feel weird,” Miles says. He grinds slow against Peter's belly.

“I know you do, kid.” Peter sets his jaw, swallows again, breathing through his nose. Miles can tell he's trying to regulate his breathing, calm himself down. “Try to remember what happened. I left you at your house -”

Miles is touching Peter's jaw, stroking his fingers over the bristle of his stubble. The bruise on Peter's cheek from earlier has darkened. Miles touches it very gently. He strokes his fingers over Peter's chin, down his neck. It's something taboo to touch Peter's neck like this.

“Look at me,” Peter says. He's trying to order Miles again. “Look at me, Miles.”

Miles sprays webbing over Peter's mouth, sealing it shut, and he scoots down Peter's body as Peter thrashes around again trying to throw him off. Miles sits on top of Peter's thighs and waits for Peter to tire himself out. It doesn't take long.

Peter lies still again, panting gustily through his nose. He lifts his head to look at Miles, saying something muffled into the gag.

Miles slides Peter's t-shirt up his chest. 

He's seen Peter without a shirt on before, but it's something else to see him like this, the hair on his thick torso, his chest rising and falling. Miles touches him and the warm flesh jumps. Miles pets the wiry hair curiously.

“Peter...” Miles leans down and puts his face against Peter's chest, sniffing his skin, the smell hitting him hard. He can hear Peter breathing loud. 

Miles sits back. He gazes at the bulge of Peter's penis in his sweatpants.

Miles pulls the sweatpants down. Peter’s trying to squirm, trying to fight him, but then Miles is easing Peter's black briefs down and just like that Peter's penis is out, lying half-hard on his hip.

Miles stares. For a moment he's jolted out of his exploration of Peter. It's felt a little like a game up til now. He's suddenly overwhelmed by how taboo this is. 

He looks guiltily up at Peter, and he's struck by everything all over again, the masculinity of him, just how much of an adult male he is, an alpha, the hair on his torso, the look of his penis, his pubic hair. It's surreal to have Peter helpless like this, it's insane that Miles has disobeyed him, tied him up and stripped him. It feels so wrong, dangerous. Miles stares up the length of Peter’s body and into his familiar face, meets his gaze. Peter's eyes are burning, fixed on him.

“Peter,” Miles says. “Peter, don’t be mad at me...”

He looks down at Peter's penis again, drawn to it helplessly. He bends down, needing to smell it. Peter says something urgent into his gag.

“I’m sorry,” Miles says shakily. “I won’t do it for long, I just - I need to - ”

He brushes his lips against Peter’s cock. He rubs his mouth and his nose against it. It's all hot and hard and silky agains his lips.

“You smell really good,” he says dazedly. Peter's penis twitches against his face like it's answering him. Miles takes hold of it carefully, shyly, with just his fingertips, smears his lips against it, makes his lips all soft and loose and wet. He kisses it, smells it, he buries his nose in Peter's pubic hair and smells Peter's sex smell.

He pulls Peter's sweatpants down some more and manages to get them off one foot, but then Peter immediately captures him in a closed guard, locking his legs around Miles, and Miles has to wrestle with him for a moment to get out of it. It's easy to break the strength in Peter's legs, spread him open. Peter strains against Miles' hands, weak and ineffectual. There's nothing he can do when Miles is so much stronger than him.

Miles holds Peter’s powerful thighs apart, settles down again. He can do whatever he likes now. He licks Peter’s balls. Peter's legs kick and scramble either side of Miles, trying to get purchase with his heels on top of the duvet, but it's no good. Miles mouths at Peter's balls, in a sort of trance licking his right testicle, the way it rolls in the sack under his tongue. He bullies it gently with his tongue, getting it all wet, lapping at it until Peter's thigh muscles are shaking under Miles’ hands. Miles noses around, nuzzling his face in close, breathing hot breath, he pushes his nose into the crack of Peter's ass. The smell of Peter in this most private part of his body is making him drunk.

Miles sits up finally, feeling dopey.

He gets a jolt as he sees Peter has managed to wrench his right hand free and he's prying at the webbing on his left hand.

Miles grabs Peter's arm, wrestles it back, webs it back in place above his head. 

“Don't try it,” Miles says sternly. He and Peter lock eyes. The heat in Peter's look is almost too much for Miles. “I'll - I'll take this one off, okay?” Miles says. He peels the webbing off Peter's mouth.

“Miles, listen to me - ”

“Don't try to order me,” Miles says sharply. “I can put the web back on.”

“No!” Peter flexes his fingers, testing the webbing on his wrists. “No. Just listen - Miles - ”

Miles rubs his face into Peter’s neck, sighing thickly. Peter is sweating and the smell of him under his jaw is irresistible. Miles starts licking him there, opening his mouth on the hot column of his throat, licking and sucking.

“Goddamn it, Miles, _stop!_ ”

Miles jerks back like Peter's hit him.

Peter lies there panting, his hair a mess, his neck all flushed where Miles had his mouth. He's basically naked, his shirt rucked up under his armpits. Miles can feel Peter's drawn-up knee against his ribs, the soft lump of his sweatpants in a tangle bunched at his knee.

Peter's penis is lying stiff on his belly.

“You’re not thinking straight,” Peter says roughly. “Listen to my voice, Miles. _You have to let me go._ ”

The command makes Miles sit up straight, a familiar tug in his guts compelling him to obey. It eases off. 

He and Peter look at each other warily.

Miles looks at Peter's penis. Even as he stares at it, it lifts and falls, like it's beckoning to Miles.

“Miles,” Peter growls warningly, his heels digging into the bed either side of Miles as he tilts his hips like he's trying to hide his penis, but all it does is tip his pelvis up, teasing Miles with his penis as it lifts and drops again shamelessly, all slimy at the tip. Just the look of it makes Miles ache. He picks up Peter's penis with his fingers, stunned by how hot it is, blood-hot, how beautiful it is.

“Peter...” Miles is shaking suddenly, overwhelmed with frustration as he holds Peter's penis in his hand. He's abruptly aware of how hard his own cock is, how hard he's been all this time. His body feels all wrong, feels weak and strange like he has a fever.

“Kid, look at me. Look at me, puppy.”

Miles looks at Peter. Peter never calls him puppy - nobody does, not since he was a little kid, and then it was his mom calling him _cachorro_. Miles only knows _puppy_ from songs and from porn he watches, where it's a male alpha with a girl. He doesn't know how to process Peter calling him that, it should make him feel embarrassed, but it just makes his body go hot, it makes him unable to move.

“Let me take care of you, okay?” Peter says. “You gotta let me go first. Come on. Let me take care of you. Take this stuff off.”

Miles lets go of Peter's dick and reaches up and tears the webbing off his wrists, first one then the other.

“Okay,” Peter hisses, gritting his teeth, rubbing his wrists. “Okay. Let me just - ” He sits up and tries to pull the duvet over his crotch.

“No,” Miles moans, irrationally filled with despair, pulling the duvet away. “Peter.”

“It's okay, come here.” Peter gathers Miles close, hugging him, the duvet bunched between them. “Tell me what you gave me, puppy.”

Peter's hand grips the nape of his neck and the tension drains out of Miles.

“Xylazanine,” Miles confesses miserably.

“Did you bring antidote with you?” Peter massages his neck slowly.

Miles nods. “It's in my pocket. My hoodie.”

Peter must spot his hoodie on the floor, because then he's getting up fast, stumbling a bit. He takes a second to jam his foot into his sweat pants and pull them back up, then he's staggering over to Miles' hoodie and pulling out the silver case from the pocket, a case that looks kind of like a glasses case, and Peter unzips it fast, takes out the syringe and the phial (the only one left in there), bites off the cap, stabs the needle into the phial and loads it up.

Miles crouches on his hands and knees on the bed, watching, strangely immobilised.

Peter injects himself.

“God damn.” He puts the needle on top of the chest of drawers and stands there for a moment, leaning with his weight on both his hands on the chest of drawers. 

When he turns back to face Miles, he's standing straight.

“I’m sorry,” Miles says in a small voice, making himself small on the bed.

“I left you at your parents' place,” Peter says.

Miles crouches down smaller.

Peter comes towards the bed, moving steady now. He still has an erection, and Miles can't look away from the shape of it under his sweat pants.

“What the hell happened?” Peter says.

Miles springs up from the bed suddenly, tries to fly past him, but Peter catches his arm in a hard grip.

“Let go!” Miles squirms, but Peter's got all his strength back now and there's no breaking his hold.

“Kid - ” 

Miles bites Peter's arm.

“Jesus! Miles!” Peter pushes him away and Miles lands bouncing on the bed.

“This isn't just a heat, this is something else,” Peter says.

Miles kneels wobbly on the matress, makes to spring up again and Peter grabs him by his arms. Miles struggles miserably, his eyes stinging with tears.

“You're hurting me.”

Peter loosens his hold. “Sorry. I'm sorry. This is insane.” They're both panting.

Miles puts his hand over the bulge of Peter's penis. Peter catches Miles' wrist, draws his hand away.

“Don’t do that, puppy,” Peter says in a low voice. “You can’t do that - ” 

He’s called him puppy again. The word makes Miles tremble. 

Peter’s holding Miles away from him, not saying anything. 

Miles gets his hand free and reaches again. He cups the bulge of Peter's penis. 

Peter draws his hand away gently.

"No, puppy." 

Miles nuzzles his neck.

"I've gotta...take you home," Peter says as Miles rubs his mouth and nose against Peter's scent glands.

Miles' hand slips down between the two of them and he rubs the flat of his palm over the fat bulge of Peter's erection. He hears Peter's breath catch, feels the man's hands tighten on his arms.

"Miles..." Peter's voice is strained.

"Just for a second?" Miles leans back a little and gives Peter his most pleading look. He's touching Peter inexpertly, cupping and gently stroking his cock through his sweatpants.

Peter’s mouth has gone loose, his eyes fixed on Miles.

"That's enough," Peter says huskily.

"For a second." Miles hooks his fingers in the waistband of Peter’s sweats and tugs his sweats down. Then Peter's big penis is bouncing stiff as it springs free. 

"This is wrong." Peter looks down, watches as Miles curls his fist loosely around Peter’s penis and gives it a tentative stroke. "I need to...take you back home." 

Miles strokes his two fingers and thumb carefully up and down on Peter's big cock. His eyes flicker between what he's doing down there and Peter's face.

Peter lays his hand on Miles' arm like he's going to make him stop but he doesn't. 

"I'm supposed to be...looking after you," Peter says roughly.

Miles gets down on the bed and guides Peter’s penis to his mouth and sucks the tip.

Peter grunts quietly, his hand going to Miles’ jaw. 

Miles licks and kisses the mushroom head of Peter's penis. He kisses it with wet lips, bumps his tongue against the slippery head trying to get more of the taste, feeling clumsy and frustrated.

“Aw...christ,” Peter groans quietly. 

A warm dribble of precome oozes from the slit. Miles tastes it with his wet tongue. He bumps and caresses the mushroom head, tonguing it, kissing it all wet.

"Miles..." Peter sighs out gustily. 

Miles licks his lips. Peter’s thumb swipes slowly over his wet lower lip. 

Peter's penis twitches, bobbing in front of Miles's face. Miles circles his fingers round it and licks his lips.

“Wait, wait,” Peter says, both his hands cradling Miles’ jaw, holding him off. “Let me think, let me just - ”

Miles feels a stab of real panic. Peter’s going to stop this.

Peter's penis is right in front of his face, fat and aroused, smelling and tasting incredible. Miles feels a surge of anxious possessiveness towards it. Peter's going to try and take it away from him. 

Miles' asshole clenches suddenly in a painful spasm. A rush of warm wetness oozes out, wetting through the seat of Miles' underwear and pants. 

Miles falls back on the bed with a cry of pain, his face screwed up tight. Another spasm goes through his ass. Miles squirms with a gasp.

"Miles?" Peter's kneeling on the bed, his hand on Miles' arm.

Miles squirms away from him - he can't let Peter take him home.

“It's okay, buddy, it's okay, let me see,” Peter says, reaching for him.

“No - ” Miles' voice comes out high and shaky. He fists his hand at his knee of his track pants and lays back gasping as his asshole clenches up with a bright flare of pain that radiates up his spine, down his thighs. It eases off and Miles is sweating. His asshole relaxes fitfully and a pulse of hot excretion wets Miles' underwear and pants.

“I've got you. Try and lay on your front.” Peter's leaning over him, his hands on Mile's hip and shoulder, trying to roll him.

“ _No!_ ” Miles winces as his asshole gives another spasm.

“Let's get these off you,” Peter says. He's already pulling Miles' pants down, stripping them down his calves and off his feet. He tosses them aside. 

Miles still has his underwear on. He makes a wavering unhappy noise in his throat as Peter tries to take them off.

“Alright, puppy,” Peter murmurs. He's large, a big adult alpha leaning over Miles. “I gotta take a look.”

He turns Miles over onto his stomach with an easy physicality, doing it fast. Miles makes a sharp noise, more from the shock of it than anything else.

Peter pushes Miles' t-shirt up and tugs Miles' wet underwear down just enough to expose his ass cheeks, and before Miles can do or say anything, Peter's spreading Miles' cheeks open, looking at him where he's wet and aching. Miles' asshole clenches up tight.

"Alright, puppy, it's alright."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this got filthy.

Then Peter's fingertip slides into him.

The ache in Miles' asshole shoots up his spine and down his thighs. Miles cries out, tries to scramble away but Peter pins him with an arm thrown over his hips, and the tip of his finger continues sliding in and out of Miles' asshole.

Peter's talking to him but Miles has no idea what he's saying, he can just make out the low and sympathetic tone of the man's voice.

Miles' world has shrunk down to Peter's fingertip penetrating him, and it's not painful now, but still there's an ache. Miles' asshole is excreting more slippery lubricant as Peter gives the tight clenching anus this teasing bit of penetration.

“Feel okay?” Peter says. He's easing his finger in deeper, up to the first knuckle.

“I don’t know...” Miles moans, leaning up on his elbows, his face screwed up, his asshole clenching on Peter's finger, trying to resist it, but there's no resisting it, not with how slippery he is. He can hear it, his anus making a wet sucking noise every time Peter pulls his finger part-way out.

“Peter,” Miles says, his voice wavering.  
   
“Yeah, buddy,” Peter murmurs. The _squelch squelch squelch_ continues, Peter's finger remaining busy in Miles' asshole. “Just focus on how it feels.”

Miles whines, a sound that's tearful and pleading. He lets his head sink down in embarrassment. He's so hard, his penis trapped in his briefs, squished underneath him.

Peter is no longer holding him down. His free hand squeezes and kneads Miles' ass cheek. The air is thick with the smell of Miles' lubricant.

“There you go,” Peter says. “Feels better now, doesn't it?”

“Y-yeah,” Miles says as his asshole sucks on Peter's finger, wet and helpless. It's making Miles feel restless.

“Omegas have a gland right here,” Peter says. “It's not deep inside, you just stick your finger in, you'll find it easy. You need to stimulate it like this, it'll help you lubricate easier. If you don't do that, the gland'll start to hurt. It'll just get worse if you leave it.”

Peter's finger is sinking all the way in, like he's searching for something. A moment later he definitely finds _something_. Miles starts to tense up as Peter goes on rubbing the something inside him.

“Prostate,” Peter says. His other hand strokes Miles' ass cheek, gives it a squeeze. “Feel okay?”  

“It's...it's weird,” Miles says.

Peter pulls Miles' underwear down a little further. Miles jumps as he feels Peter touch his taint, stroke his thumb over it at the same time as his finger delves in and out of Miles' asshole.

“ _Ah!_ ” Miles squirms his hips, lifts his head up sharply. His dick jumps, squashed as it is underneath him, and suddenly he's about to come. His asshole clenches on Peter's finger, coats it in a fresh pulse of slick.

“Peter,” Miles moans uncertainly.

“I'm right here,” Peter says. The wet _suck suck suck_ of his finger in Miles' ass doesn't let up, he worries that spot inside of Miles while his thumb keeps massaging Miles' taint. Miles squirms his hips helplessly, overwhelmed with pleasure and embarrassment, his mouth falling open, huffing shaky fast breaths as he humps the bed and starts to come.

“There you go,” Peter murmurs.

Miles grabs fistfuls of the duvet, his hips jerking spasmodically as he creams in his underwear. Peter's finger feels so good inside him. Miles' body clenches on it, the spasms rubbing the man's big blunt finger against that secret place inside Miles. It's like a throbbing explosion. The shocks keep working through Miles' body, making him shudder, even after his penis is done pulsing come, he's still shaking and twitching, his face buried hot in the duvet, hot tears wetting his eyelashes.

Peter eases his finger out, and even that feels good, how wet and slippery it is. Miles' asshole goes on clenching as Peter's finger slides out.

Miles is limp, lying there with his heart still thumping and a slight ringing in his ears.

Peter rolls Miles over onto his back. Miles keeps his eyes closed. He stays limp as Peter lifts Miles' knees up and pulls his wet underwear off him, drops them over the side of the bed. It's a relief.

Miles sniffs, swallows thickly. Opening his eyes causes his tears to roll down his temples, either side of his face. He doesn't even know why he's crying. Peter leans over him and smells his neck, licks him under his jaw.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

Miles tries to answer and all he can manage is a clogged up nasally noise.

Peter leans on his elbow and looks at him. Peter's got that small frown he often has. His hand comes up and he wipes the tears either side of Miles' face, then he strokes Miles' cheek, passing his thumb over Miles' cheekbone.

“Still feel weird?” he says.

Miles nods.

“You're burning up.” Peter's hand moves to Miles' forehead, back to his cheek. “Should get you in the shower.”

The last thing Miles wants is a shower. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want Peter to move.

“Cool you down some.” Peter puts his nose under Miles' jaw. “Cool me down some too.”

*

Peter doesn't make him shower. Instead he takes off Miles' t-shirt and strips off his sweats and lets Miles lay between his thighs and suck his penis.

"That's good," he says, stroking Miles' neck and jaw as Miles licks him. "That's good, Miles."

He rubs his mushroom tip against Miles' lips, then rubs his big penis against Miles' face. Miles tries to lick him and Peter's hand cups his jaw.

"Yeah, show me your tongue."

Miles puts his tongue out and Peter pats Miles' tongue with his big mushroom head.

"Fuck. Miles." He's breathing a little rough. "I shouldn't be...doing this. Fuck, puppy."

Miles is all slick between his asscheeks again. 

Peter's penis, the taste and feeling of it in his mouth, the look of it in his hand, is all he cares about now. 

Peter can smell he's wet.

He rolls Miles over and pushes a finger into Miles' asshole, holds Miles pinned with his legs spread and works his finger in deep.

Miles wants Peter's cock in his mouth. Now that he's had a taste of it, it's all he wants. He squirms and grunts and Peter keeps him pinned with his big heavy body over him. He slides a second finger into Miles' ass and his knuckles flex slow and patient.

"Peter - " Miles whines. His asshole aches, the tight ring of muscle clenching on Peter's fingers in fitful spasms, lubricant oozing out, coating Peter's fingers, making a damp patch on the duvet.

Peter lets him up and they wrestle on the bed, play-fighting. Peter is calm with everything he's doing, and somehow that makes it even more frustrating for Miles. Miles is half out of his mind, biting Peter's chest, his hands trying to reach for Peter's penis.

Every time Miles gets too worked up, Peter pins him again and buries his fingers in Miles' asshole. Miles gets wet from it every time. It aches, it makes his body tremble. The duvet has wet patches everywhere Peter has pinned him.

It goes on like that until Miles is lifting his hips into it, moaning shakily, showing Peter his neck. Miles comes once while it's happening, while he's squirming with Peter's fingers inside him. His dick jumps, spits a sudden rope of come up his torso.

Peter's fingers are all slick with hot lubricant as he eases them out.

"Alright, puppy," Peter soothes, turning Miles over onto his belly. "It's okay." He spreads Miles' cheeks open as Miles struggles, dazed from his orgasm. "Let me see."

He pushes his fingers back into Miles' twitching asshole, slippery hot and aching.

"That's good, puppy." Peter shows Miles to spread his knees wider. He tilts Miles' hips with both hands. 

The position makes Miles feel strange. Peter's fingers strokes his spread ass, tease gently at the aching rim of his asshole.

*

Peter mounts him a couple of times while they wrestle, doing it playfully. He gets Miles under him, grips him by the hips and rubs his penis into the crack of Miles' ass cheeks all slippery hot, his mouth on the back of Miles' neck.

Miles scratches and bites him when Peter lets him up.

Miles is half-delirious, crying, when Peter finally puts him down and does it. Miles stops struggling as the tip of Peter's penis prods against his asshole with real intent.

He bites the duvet, tears it in his hands. Then he goes still, his mouth stretching wide as Peter holds him down and slowly sinks his penis into him.

“Relax for me, puppy, try relax - ”

*

“Ah - ah-” Miles grips the ruined sheets.

The mattress is creaking noisily.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Miles is on his belly, his arms folded under his chest. “ _Mmmnh!_ ” His voice is wobbly and high, complaining, while Peter’s hips smack against his ass.

“I know, puppy,” Peter groans in sympathy. His voice is rough with pleasure. “But your little pussy feels so good.”

“Mmnh! Mmnh! Mmnh!” Miles whinges. Peter's holding his weight off of Miles, his hands braced either side of Miles, his hips bouncing, smacking against Miles' asscheeks, giving Miles his big penis deep in the ass, and even with the time he took stretching Miles, it's brutal.

Miles has his mouth hanging open, a strand of spit trembling stretched from his lower lip to the rumpled bedding, shaky moans of pain jolted from him as he takes it, stunned. It's fast and dirty and his asshole is aching, tight, slippery with his body's slick, all slippery for Peter's cock.

_slap - slap - slap_

“Uhn! Uhn!” Miles whines into the duvet, helpless noises pleading with Peter, upset and betrayed, pleading with the big cock that he can't do anything but take.

The sheets are all slimy wet under him where he's already ejaculated, and where his lubricant has soaked his thighs. The sheets stick to him. His penis is hard, rubbing into the mess, ready to come again.

Peter's thrusts slow to a stop, then he pulls his penis out of Miles' ass. He pets and squeezes Miles' wet ass cheek, then his hands circle Miles' hips and he tugs firmly, pulling Miles up onto his knees, into the position he taught him. Miles turns his sweaty hot face against the duvet, grumbling weakly.

“Alright, puppy,” Peter murmurs. Miles jumps as he feels Peter pat the head of his dick against Miles' hole. “That is...so goddamn pretty,” Peter says under his breath.

The mattress sinks and lifts as Peter adjusts his stance on his knees behind Miles. Warm slick runs down Miles' inner thigh. Then he feels it again, Peter's bulbous tip patting lazily against Miles' twitching sensitive asshole. Peter prods his tip into him, sinks into him in one slow push.

“Mm, fuck,” Peter huffs. He gives Miles' ass cheek a squeeze, then a light slap. Miles' anus tries to clench and can't, it's stretched, painfully full with the large penis, unable to push it out.

Peter's hands stay on Miles' hips as he starts thrusting again. He tugs Miles' hips backwards, firmly back onto his cock, his hips slapping Miles' asscheeks as they collide, the thrust jolting Miles forwards, Peter's hands tug Miles back again. Miles' body is jostled and jolted. He cries out, helpless, his penis is hard and drooling, dangling swaying wildly between his spread thighs as his body jolts.

Miles squeezes his eyes tight shut. He's crying out, overwhelmed by the pain-pleasure of it.

“You're taking it so good for me,” Peter pants. “So fucking good.”

Miles arches, tipping his hips up into Peter's hands just so, letting the alpha tug him back how he wants it, use him how he wants it, and like that Peter's cock is finding that spot inside of him, bumping it, finding it unerringly and bullying it.

“Oh yeah, give it up to me,” Peter groans. “Just like that, baby. Let me fuck it.”

Peter's cock just keeps finding that spot - it's upsetting, it's overwhelming pleasure, throwing everything into chaos. 

Miles jerks his head up from his arms, his face twitching, his lips drawing back involuntarily as he starts to orgasm, his cock jiggling swinging under him unattended, spirting come onto the duvet. Peter goes on slapping into him, his hands gripping Miles' hips, Miles' whole body jolted over and over, his cock swinging, ejaculating. Miles moans as the alpha goes on using him.

*

Miles is squished flat on his belly with Peter's big body on top of him. Peter's got him pinned, his hips slapping into Miles.

“Oh fuck. Here you go, puppy,” Peter grunts, his thrusts going sloppy, he squirms his hips into it, his whole body shuddering. He plunges his cock in deep a few more times, slowing, burying himself in Miles' ass. Miles can feel the rhythmic throb of the man's cock inside him, like a heartbeat. Miles moans weakly, clamping his teeth on the duvet all wet with his saliva.

Peter licks the nape of Miles' neck, panting and still on top of Miles. His cock is still planted inside, pulsing, and Miles feels it starting - the knot - he feels it beginning to swell inside him.

It grows fast, bigger and bigger. Miles gives a shout of fear as it hurts suddenly, a not-right feeling like it's too much, too big, like it's going to rip him open. It feels the size of a grapefruit fighting to stretch him open. He's starting to thrash and struggle. Then Peter's teeth lock onto the side of his neck and warm loose laxness unspools through Miles' body and he goes limp.

Peter grinds his hips gently against Miles' buttocks in a sort of circle motion, the occasional shudder still shaking his body.

“Mm,” he sighs. "Fuck." He licks Miles' neck and behind his ear. His hips and thighs quiver gently.

Miles shuts his eyes and passes out for a minute.

*

Miles comes to as Peter is carefully easing them onto their sides. Peter is spooned up tight behind Miles, holding Miles’ smaller body against him. His large warm hand cups Miles' belly.

Miles listens to Peter's breathing. Miles allows his jaw to relax a little on his rictus bite on the duvet.

Peter noses at Miles' hair, he sniffs his neck and behind his ear. His hand carefully adjusts the position of Miles’ leg and the tilt of his hips so there’s no strain on the knot.

He sounds more in control when he finally speaks, his voice a little rough like he's just woken up.

“You okay? Miles?”

Miles feels the mattress shift right behind him as Peter leans up on his elbow.

“Let me have this, buddy, you’re okay,” Peter says, talking with measured calm. His fingers are gentle but firm easing the wet duvet out from between Miles’ teeth. Miles loosens his jaw and gives it up.

“Good. That's good.” Peter moves the duvet slimy with saliva away. He wipes Miles’ wet lips and chin with his fingers and the heel of his hand. “Nice deep breaths for me, Miles.”

Miles breathes.

*


	4. Chapter 4

He's woken up by the sensation of a big thing easing out of his aching ass, sliding all slick and fat out of him. It feels like taking a shit, a big one that’s stretching him almost too much, sliding out all in one go, a weird-pleasurable feeling of relief. Miles moans in confusion, suddenly very much awake.

“Don't try to move,” Peter says behind him. “Just hang on a second.”

Miles rolls over onto his back, his body seeking a new position after laying on his side for too long. His ass is aching. 

Peter sits on the edge of the bed, pulling sweatpants up his thighs, the muscles across his back and shoulders shifting, the light from in the hall moving over the shape of his back hypnotically.

Peter stands up fast, tugging the sweatpants up the rest of the way. Miles gets a fleeting view of his naked ass.

Peter switches on the bedside lamp and Miles squints against the sudden light. 

Peter kneels on the bed, bending over him.

“How you feeling?”

“M'okay,” Miles says croakily, hiding his eyes behind his hand.

“Listen, I gotta take a look at you, okay? I need to make sure I didn't hurt you.” Peter touches Miles' shoulder. “Can you roll over? It'll just be quick.”

Miles goes over onto his front. He feels dizzy even lying immobile, his head still swimming.

Peter’s warm careful hands spread his cheeks open. 

Miles screws his eyes shut in the bedding, ashamed, his asshole feels achey and sore, he can feel it clenching and relaxing involuntarily with how Peter’s holding him spread.

“I’m just going to feel it, okay?” A finger on the tender rim of his asshole, then easing inside. Miles grunts and his anus clenches on the fingertip.

“Okay, buddy, I know,” Peter murmurs. 

He takes his finger out and Miles hear something get knocked over on the nightstand, then the papery rustle of a tissue being pulled out of a box and next thing he's being wiped between his butt cheeks. Things feel really slimy back there, he can smell the musky smell of it. It's Peter and him, Peter's come oozing out of him warm and wet.

“That’s good, Miles, you’re doing great,” Peter says in a slightly strained voice. 

He wipes with tissue gently, then his finger slides into Miles’ aching hole again. Miles is so loose it doesn’t hurt much beyond the ache.

“How's that feel? Huh? Does it hurt?”

“Kinda,” Miles mumbles.

“Any sharp pain?” 

“No...”

The finger slips out, more snot-wet slime coming out along with it. Peter wipes him again. Miles shudders at the feeling of the tissue wiping his tender swollen asshole.

“Sorry, kid. That’s it. All done.”

Peter drops the duvet over him again. 

Miles rolls onto his back. He watches Peter toss the tissue away, then Peter starts to pace up and down beside the bed, his hands on top of his head, his fingers laced together. His penis looks half hard under his sweats. Each time he turns to walk back towards the nightstand, his eyes land on Miles.

“It happened and that's just - it's what happened, do I feel good about it? No, but you have to go from here, so we go from here -” Peter's muttering to himself in a rushed jumble of words.

He stops abruptly and drops his hands. “I’m gonna get you some water, Miles, okay? You stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He leaves the room. Miles immediately feels anxious. He sits up. The pain that shoots up from his ass makes him hiss. After a moment it eases off, and Miles kicks the duvet away and starts to get out of the bed.

“No, no, no,” Peter says, coming back into the room with a big glass of water. “Don't - You just stay put, kid.” 

Miles settles back, immediately feeling better now he can see Peter.

“Here, drink this for me.”

Miles takes the glass and drinks. Peter tugs the torn-up sheets over Miles' legs and his naked lower body.

“Uh. Can we try talk about some stuff?” Peter sits on the edge of the bed. “Can you tell me where you got that Xylazanine?”

Miles swallows the last mouthful of water and Peter takes the empty glass from him and sets it on the nightstand.

“The Xylazanine?” Peter says. He gestures to his neck. “The stuff you stuck me with?”

Miles just blinks at him woozily. 

Miles feels too warm. He squirms onto his side, kicking the duvet away.

“Let's just keep that on, bud.” Peter tries to pull the duvet over him again and Miles gets a waft of Peter's scent. Miles sits up and rubs his face into Peter's neck, inhaling the amazing smell of him - 

“Okay. That's - You're taking a shower.” Peter stands up quickly. “It's shower time.”

*

Miles stands under the spray feeling vaguely miserable. He's scrubbing himself with a soapy washcloth.

He looks at the bottles arranged on the raised lip of the shower tray at his feet, because there's no shower rack mounted on the wall to hold anything.

This is Peter's shower. Miles has taken a few showers here. Sometimes it's been his blood swirling down the drain, after patrols.

Miles scrubs the washcloth over his chest, behind his neck, thinking.

Have they been on patrol tonight?

He finishes up and shuts the water off. When he steps out the shower he finds a clean towel folded next to the sink as well as some clothes - Peter's clothes.

Miles dries off, pulls on the men's briefs that are too big for him, the pyjama pants which he ties at the waist so they'll stay up, and a soft well-worn cotton t-shirt - everything carrying the familiar scent Peter's detergent.

Miles looks at himself in the mirror.

He feels a wave of vertigo that has him gripping the sides of the sink. Then it all hits him, all at once.

_Peter, naked and twisting under him, trying to buck him off - Peter sinking to his knees in the kitchen because Miles just injected him - The jellyfish smacking into Miles' chest - Peter's hands on Miles' hips tugging him back onto his cock -_

Miles sits down on the floor, squeezed in the corner between the sink cabinet and the shower.

After a while he hears footsteps, then a knock at the door of the bathroom.

“Miles?” Peter calls. “Everything okay in there?”

“Don't come in!” Miles shouts, his heart thumping.

There's a small pause.

“Okay,” Peter replies.

Miles has his arms crossed on top of his drawn-up knees, his head tucked down so he can be as small as possible, scrunched up tight in a ball.

“I won't come in,” Peter says. “But can you give me an idea of what's going on?”

_Wrestling with Peter on the bed, biting Peter's chest out of sheer frustration, the heavy weight of the alpha on top of him so good, fingers inside him - he wants Peter, he wants - he wants -_

Miles thumps his head back against the wall, whimpering, “Oh my god!” as he crushes his hands to his eyes.

“Miles?” Peter calls, his voice more urgent. 

Miles peers around the side of the cabinet at the door. Peter's standing right on the other side of it.

“You can come in,” Miles says in a constricted, piping voice.

The door handle turns. Miles hides back behind the cabinet.

Peter comes slowly into the bathroom. He stands in front of Miles for a second before he kneels down. He's put on a t-shirt. He smells musky - he smells like Miles. He smells like sex.

“What's wrong?” Peter's looking him over like he thinks he's hurt.

“What's _wrong_?” Miles fists his hand in his hair. “I'm going crazy - I'm really going crazy -”

“You're not going crazy, Miles, just breathe -”

Miles tries to breathe. He shakes his head in disbelief, still pulling hard on his hair, hard so it hurts, keeping his eyes down, refusing to look at Peter. 

“Things coming back to you?” Peter murmurs. 

Miles nods.

“There was a - a Portal Narco-medusa - whatever those things are, a - one of those dark jellyfish things - ” Miles says in a rush. “It it came into my room - after you left - ”

Peter drops his chin to his chest. “Oh boy.” 

“It was weird, it was - glowing - ”

Peter lifts his head. “You got the pollen on you?”

Miles nods. “I don't know what happened after that. I left. I...came here.” He does look at Peter now, finally. “Peter...”

“It's okay,” Peter says.

Miles’ throat goes tight.

“It’s not okay,” he says thickly. “I - I - that stuff I did - ”

_He pins Peter's wrist to the headboard, webs it there, Peter's struggling, but he's not strong enough, Miles made sure of that -_

“Peter - ” Miles feels like he's going to be sick. “I'm - gonna be sick - ”

“Hey - Miles, no - ” Peter grabs his shoulder as Miles lurches forward. “Breathe. It's okay, just breathe.” Peter's voice is low and calm, his hand rubbing the back of Miles’ neck. 

“It’s so m-messed up - ” Miles chokes out, gulping back the need to wretch, blinded by tears.

“Miles, listen to me. Those things - the dark jellyfish, their pollen does stuff, okay? I told you about the ones from my world. It's happened to me. The pollen messes with your impulse control. Add to that the fact you're having your first heat - that's a hell of a combination -”

“I - I assaulted you.”

“That's not what happened.”

“Don't lie about it!” Miles cries, his voice cracking.

“Hey, look at me.” Peter grips Miles' chin, tipping his face up. “Have I ever lied to you?”

Miles stares into Peter's face.

“Have I?” Peter demands.

“No.”

“Okay. So listen to what I’m saying -” 

“I know what I did to you, I tied you to the bed - ”

“Okay, yes, that - that was - But it wasn't you, Miles. You know that. That was the pollen and your heat. You weren't behind the wheel until a minute ago when you showered that stuff off!” Peter lets go of Miles. “This was my fault.”

“What? No it wasn't - ”

“You gave me the antidote. Do you remember that?”

Miles remembers - _Peter leaning on the chest of drawers. Peter turning, coming back to the bed. Peter's dick in his mouth -_

“Oh my god, _oh my god._ ” Miles puts his face in his hands, more embarrassed than he can ever remember being in his whole life.

Peter puts the lid down on the toilet and sits on it.

“Miles. The second I took that antidote... I was strong enough to stop what was happening. You understand? I should have stopped it.”

Miles thumps his head against the wall again.

“That means this is on me,” Peter says. “You did nothing wrong. I let it get out of control, I fucked up, I really...” Peter huffs a laugh. “I mean. I've done a lot of things in my life I'm not proud of, but this...”

Miles surges to his feet. “How you even gonna say this was your fault?”

“You're a _kid_ , Miles,” Peter says, his voice distracted, impatient. “I'm the adult. It was up to me to put a stop it. The second I got free, I should have taken you straight home.” He leans back and sweeps his eyes over Miles like he's not really seeing him. “You should be in your bedroom. Your parents should be looking after you. I'm supposed to be protecting you, teaching you, not -” 

He gets to his feet abruptly and goes over to the open door, bracing his hand up on the doorframe.

“Wait -” He jerks around suddenly. “Where do your parents think you are right now?” 

“I told my mom I had to...go to Ganke's to work on a project,” Miles says, the memory coming back to him all hazy like he's seeing it underwater..

“Then you still haven't told them you're an omega?” Peter frowns. “Commands stopped working. Meaning the pollen...” He looks aside, scrubbing his hand slowly through his hair. “...the pollen must knock out compliance. Goes straight for the prefrontal cortex.” 

Peter's t-shirt clings to his pectorals, rides up just enough to show a sliver his belly, the trail of hair leading down from his navel. 

“ - have to stay here, at least until morning,” Peter is saying. “We're connected. For now. Until your heat winds down. But nothing else is going to happen, okay? Nothing...like that. Anything else you need, scent marking, whatever, I'm here. But the way this works, if we're separated too soon, you're gonna crash - ”

_“You're taking it so good for me.” Peter's voice, rough and low with pleasure._

“Miles?” 

Miles snaps out of it, looking at Peter with an expression that's probably deer in headlights. 

“What is it?” Peter says.

“I - nothing.” Miles folds his arms tight across his chest. 

“I know this is a lot,” Peter says. “You should try get some sleep. I'm just gonna shower and then...” He stands to one side, his back to the sink, making room for Miles to get to the door. “I...changed the sheets in there. So. Uh. I don't know if you want to sleep in there. There's the couch. It's just - it's not a good idea for us to be separated for too long.” Peter winces. “Is the only thing about that,” he finishes lamely.

“Got it,” Miles says, his voice high and weird as he tries to make it sound natural. He slips past Peter and out the door.

*

Miles paces around Peter's living room. The pipes are humming while the shower runs.

Miles throws himself down on the couch and switches on the tv, flicking rapidly through channels before he snaps it off again and gets up to pace some more.

He sticks his head into the bedroom, takes in the fresh bedsheets, the neatly made bed - it might be the first time he's seen Peter's bed anything but a mess.

He tries to psych himself up to walking in and sitting on the bed, but he can't do it.

Where is Peter? In the shower. He's in the shower.

“Right,” Miles huffs, trying to laugh at himself. Nothing bad's going to happen - Peter's just in the shower.

He goes back into the living room, walks up and down, up and down. How long does it take to shower anyway?

In the kitchen he sees the washing machine's running, he recognises his hoodie spinning around with other stuff inside.

He returns to the bedroom doorway. He doesn't look at the bed. He walks in, goes straight for the laundry basket that's in the closet - he doesn't know how he knows it's in there, but he pulls the door open and there it is. On his knees he searches through Peter's dirty clothes and finds some underwear, buries his nose in it.

Maybe Peter's not coming back? He could have just slipped out of the bathroom window, left Miles here on his own. He doesn't want to deal with Miles - he never did -

Miles rubs his face into the crotch of Peter's briefs. He tips the rest of the clothes out of the basket onto the carpet and starts sifting through them. He finds a t-shirt that smells really good. He arranges the rest in a kind of crescent moon shape, the behaviour weirdly calming -

His spider sense crackles and he whips the briefs out of his mouth and looks up just as Peter appears in the doorway, scrubbing his hair with a towel.

Peter freezes as he sees him, his arm paused with the towel to his head. “Hi...” he says slowly.

Miles glances at the mess of clothes on the floor. “I was just - ” There's a silence where Miles' brain completely fails to produce a coherent thought. 

“That's okay,” Peter says, coming unfrozen, tossing his towel aside with an apparent careless ease. He comes in, moves towards Miles and Miles really wishes he wouldn't -

“I'll clean it up,” Miles says.

“Don't worry about it.” Peter's looking at the shape Miles formed his clothes into on the floor.

Miles stands up, trying to be casual about hiding Peter's briefs behind his back.

Peter nudges the plastic laundry basket into the closet with his foot and shuts the door. He leaves the clothes undisturbed.

“What do you have there?” he says mildly.

“Nothing,” Miles mumbles, then he feels stupid lying because it's obvious Peter knows he's got something. He shows Peter the briefs fisted up in his hand.

Peter nods with a careful expression of polite interest, his hands on his hips. 

“Ah-hah. Great. I feel nothing.” Peter sways his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing clean joggers and the same t-shirt he came into the bathroom with. He puts his hand out. “Can I see those?”

Miles hides the briefs behind his back again.

“You were taking forever in the shower,” Miles says defensively.

Peter moves a step closer. “Right. Well I'm here now, so - hand them over.”

“Why?” Miles backs up. He doesn't even know why he wants to keep hold of the underwear so bad.

“Because in a minute we're gonna lay down and I'm gonna scent mark you,” Peter says. “So you're not gonna need those.”

“Oh,” Miles says. He keeps his hands behind his back.

“And after that we're gonna go to sleep,” Peter says. He's very close to Miles now. He puts his hand on Miles' arm and turns him gently and Miles lets him. Peter tries to work the underwear loose from Miles' fingers. Miles relaxes his fingers and lets Peter have them. 

“Thank you,” Peter says gruffly. He drops the underwear on top of the clothes pile. He clears his throat, sniffs. “And your thing is - ” He gestures to the too-large pyjama pants Miles is wearing. The tie has come undone and the pants are halfway off Miles' hips.

Miles tugs them up hastily.

“Yep,” Peter says briskly. “Just tie those back up. And. Great. This is fine.” 

He herds Miles over to the bed, pulls back the covers, waves Miles to climb in.

“Absolutely fine,” Peter says to the ceiling, his arms wrapped around Miles, hugging him to his chest under the covers. “This is _not_ a problem.” 

Peter's scent is making a warm haze around Miles, making him dopey and sleepy and completely contented. 

“Is it weird because...you used to do this with MJ?” Miles says, muffled against Peter's chest. It takes a second for Peter to answer and Miles thinks he's misjudged what they can talk about, but then Peter says,

“No. I mean, I miss it, sure. But that wasn't...where my mind was. As such.” Peter's arms relax their death grip on Miles slightly and he sighs. “It's gonna be okay. We'll be back to normal in the morning. Mostly normal.”

Miles squirms a little trying to find a more comfortable position. Peter's hand locks suddenly onto his upper thigh.

“Works better if you keep still,” Peter says in a tight voice.

“Sorry,” Miles huffs. He hasn't scent-marked with another guy since he was a little kid, and then it was his dad or his uncle. He doesn't remember it making him this out of it.

“Why do you smell so good?” Miles grumbles, rubbing his cheek against Peter's chest all warm under his soft t-shirt.

Peter laughs. “Kid. You are seriously in no position to talk.” The tension goes out of his body as he laughs again. “Ah, god. Okay. Less talking, more sleeping.”

*

“Peter?” Miles says in a small voice.

Peter breathes out thickly against the pillow, mutters something in his sleep, his arm tightening around Miles' waist. 

“Peter,” Miles says again, nudging Peter's chest.

“Yeah, wa’sit?” Peter says, leaning up on his elbow suddenly. He looks over at the doorway, then down at Miles. He clears his throat. “Kid? What time's it?” He scrubs his hand over his face. “What's wrong?”

“It happened again, the - It's wet again...” Miles squirms. His legs are tangled with Peter's. Down the crack of his butt everything is slimy and uncomfortable. 

“Wet?” Peter repeats dazedly. He slides his hand down the back of Miles' borrowed clothing, past the loose elasticated waist of his underwear. Peter's fingers slide into Miles' butt crack where it's all slippery with mucus.

“Oh,” Peter says, his voice raspy, still half-sleep.

Miles can't say anything.

Peter is lying quite still, his body against Miles’ feels coiled, muscles tensed to act. It pings Miles' spider sense, makes Miles tense up as well. Then Peter seems to snap out of it.

“Uh,” he croaks. He pulls his hand quickly out the back of Miles’ underwear, brings his hand up above the duvet, the smell on his fingers hits Miles with humiliating pungency. “Sorry,” Peter says. “I...didn't mean to do that - just stick my hand down there - ”

“It's gonna get on your bed,” Miles says, lifting his hips trying to stop the contact between his wet pyjama pants and the sheets.

“Right - I've got - towels.” Peter twists and reaches down by the bed, comes back with a folded towel. “If you get it under you -”

Peter pushes the towel under Miles' butt. Miles rests on top of it for a moment. His ass gives a painful spasm.

“Peter,” he gasps.

“Hurts?” Peter says.

“Y-Yeah.” Miles squirms against the towel, tears springing into his eyes against his will. 

“It's okay, it's okay,” Peter says. “Do you remember any of that stuff I told you? About the gland omegas have?” 

Miles bites off a moan as another spasm locks him up. He manages a nod.

“That's what you've gotta do, Miles, okay?” Peter says.

“What?” Miles looks at Peter in a panic. 

“You have to, or it's gonna keep hurting.” Peter is pushing the covers off, getting up off the bed. “I'll be right outside. You just - use a finger. One finger. It's - it's real easy to find the gland - ”

“Where are you going?” Miles says, sitting up. “I don't know what I'm doing - _ah!_ ” He falls back against the bed, his hips twitching as pain shoots through his ass.

“You got this,” Peter says firmly, then he leaves, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him.

*

Miles grabs the crumpled underwear off the pile of Peter's dirty clothes and crawls back across the bed to the towel.

He lays back down with a gasp, spreads his legs and slides his finger into his ass. 

He's been trying for the last ten minutes and it's not working. He's made so much slime, the towel is damp and gross underneath him.

He puts the underwear over his face and breathes Peter in, pulls his baggy t-shirt up and jogs his fist desperately on his cock, his whole body shaking.

He can't do it - he can't finish -

He pulls his finger out and rolls onto his stomach in desperation, grabs a pillow and positions it under him, starts humping it, Peter's underwear clamped in his teeth.

“It's been a little while, Miles, you doing okay?” Peter's voice calls through the door.

Miles hunches over the pillow. He lets Peter's underwear drop from his mouth with a moan.

“ _Peter._ ”

“I'm right here, what is it?”

“I can't - I can't - ”

“I'm coming in!”

Miles hears the door click open and he gets clumsily off the pillow, he doesn't want Peter to see him doing it -

“Aw, _kid_.” Peter's on the bed with him in a flash, helping Miles lay down on his back. “What's going on?”

“I did it, what you said, but it didn't - ” Miles pulls his t-shirt down trying to hide himself. “It hurts.”

Peter picks up the towel that's all damp and stinking with Miles' slick.

“Aw, baby. _Shit._ Let me take a look.”

Miles grabs Peter's hand as he tries to touch him. He's got the bottom of his t-shirt wadded it up between his thighs.

“I know it hurts.” Peter tugs at Miles' t-shirt gently. “Let me see.”

“You said it'd stop if I -” Miles wants to sound angry but his voice is thick with tears. “Why'd you leave? I told you I didn't know what I was doing -” 

“I know, I'm sorry, Miles, I'm sorry.” Peter reaches for Miles again and Miles plants his foot in Peter's chest, prepared to kick him. 

Peter backs off.

When Miles feels like Peter's not going to do anything, he squirms on his side and tries to get at Peter's underwear which are still lying near the pillow.

“These again?” Peter swipes the underwear up before Miles can get them in his mouth.

“I need those,” Miles says tearfully. “Give them back.”

Peter holds the underwear in his hand for a moment, considering them, then he rubs them down his belly and over his crotch, over his boner tenting his joggers.

“Okay?” Peter says. He tugs his joggers down his hips, freeing his cock. It springs out, bobbing as he adjusts his kneeling position. “You want this smell?” Peter says, showing Miles his penis, curling his hand around it and giving it a slow stroke.

Miles is staring with wide eyes. 

“Come here, puppy,” Peter says.

Miles goes to him in a daze. Even the throbbing ass-twinge he gets as he moves doesn't stop him.

Peter grips him by the arms and hauls him up so they're chest-to-chest. Miles looks down between them. He puts his hand tentatively on Peter.

“I like girls too,” Miles finds himself saying, out of nowhere, and it prompts a soft snort of laughter from Peter.

“I noticed that about you,” Peter says dryly, his hand going to the back of Miles' hand, guiding his hand on Peter's cock, showing him how to stroke him. 

“ _Ah!_ ” Miles leans into Peter as a twinge of pain lances through him. He feels Peter's cock twitch in his hand.

“Let me touch you,” Peter murmurs, his hands sliding all warm and good under Miles' baggy t-shirt, cupping Miles' ass cheeks in his hands. He teases his finger into the slippery cleft of Miles' ass.

Miles opens his mouth against Peter's chest as Peter puts his finger into his asshole and he bites down on Peter's t-shirt and his pec underneath it as Peter teases his hole, sliding his fingertip in and out.

A warm ooze of lubricant coats Peter's fingers.

“I wasn't gonna do this,” Peter moans softly, working his finger in deeper, holding Miles to him, rubbing his penis slow against Miles' naked belly under his t-shirt. 

“Ah...Peter...” Miles screws up his face, it's almost painful, it's good, as Peter slides two fingers into him. 

“Smells so good, puppy,” Peter murmurs.

Lubricant slides down Miles' inner-thigh and Peter pets and squeezes his asscheek with his free hand as his fingers go on working Miles' asshole.

Peter's nose brushes against Miles' nose, nuzzling, Peter's lips pluck at Miles' lips, and he's kissing Miles. His hot tongue swipes the seam of Miles' lips. 

Miles' two make-out sessions with Chloe Santoyo in the storage room of the school gym is all the experience he's got to work with, and it must show, but there's no room in Miles' brain to feel self-conscious as Peter just guides his head and kisses him. Kissing a man is something completely different from kissing Chloe. Miles feels young as Peter cups his jaw, teaches him. Peter's fingers stay inside him the whole time, and when Miles opens his mouth tentatively and Peter's tongue slides inside, Miles' clenches on Peter's fingers. 

Miles is so hard, his cock grinding against Peter's joggers.

Peter finally eases his fingers out of him long enough to tug Miles off, holding Miles' t-shirt out of the way, his fingers wet with Miles' slick, stroking Miles' penis, getting it all wet. He slips his fingers of his other hand into Miles' ass as he tugs him off. He eases a third finger in, the stretch almost too much. Peter keeps stroking him and Miles makes an anxious noise as three thick fingers fuck him slow, and he starts to come.

“That's it, buddy,” Peter says, talking to him all low and encouraging, like he's really proud of Miles. “There you go.”

Miles spills his come all over Peter's fist, one particularly strong spirt stripes Peter's t-shirt.

Peter slides his fingers out of him. He reaches behind his head and pulls his own t-shirt off over his head and tosses it.

“Lay down for me, baby.” He licks Miles' neck, shepherding Miles with his body, and Miles knows what's coming. Still twitching with little shocks after just getting off, Miles lays down on his stomach.

Peter's pins him and slide his penis between Miles' cheeks, Miles' lube making everything slippery, like hot butter.

“Oh wow,” Peter huffs disbelievingly, rubbing his mouth against the back of Miles' neck. “I don't know how I thought I wasn't gonna do this again...”

He prods his cock against Miles' asshole, leans up on his arm and pushes the tip into the twitching tight hole.

“Uhn...Peter...” Miles kicks his leg out restlessly, grabbing at the duvet, his hole stretching to accept Peter's tip, then he's taking more, the penis easing its way deeper, feeding into his body slow and thick and hard.

Peter sinks in until he's buried in Miles. His beard scratches Miles' neck as he nuzzles him. 

“God - you feel incredible,” he says thickly, lifting and dropping his hips slow, thrusting into Miles' body, he does it once and then again, and again. Miles can't hold in the shaky stunned noises he starts making, the shock of having a big penis in his butt again - and this time there's nothing blurring reality, blunting it, he's not half out of his mind.

Miles' body rocks with Peter's thrusts. Peter's so big it's almost too much and Miles is moaning all wobbly and anxious from it, moaning taking something so big. Miles' slick has coated Peter's cock. His hole is wet and hot for it, even as it hurts him, even as he's moaning in pain, he wants it.

“Oh _god_ ,” Peter groans, sounding almost despairing, his mouth all hot sucking a kiss to Miles' shoulder, his hips slapping into Miles as Miles whinges. “Don't want to hurt you - fuck, puppy - it's so tight -”

Miles is asking for it shamelessly with each anxious pleading cry. He's ready to come again already, Peter's big penis rubbing that place him inside so good. 

"Fuck -" Peter huffs. "You like that cock? You like my cock in your little pussy?"

Miles screws his eyes shut tight and he comes, his penis trapped underneath him, spitting pulses of come into the duvet.

" _Fuck_ , baby," Peter groans disbelievingly.

He pulls out of Miles. Miles lays there panting and trembling, his asshole clenching empty, his cock still pulsing little dribbles of come. Peter's thumbs spreads Miles' butt cheeks open, exposing his clenching hole. 

Miles cries out in shock as Peter bites his butt cheek suddenly, not hard enough to hurt, a pinching clamp of teeth on his soft flesh.

“Sorry,” Peter says, sounding kind of drunk, nuzzling his face into Miles' ass crack, growling. “Aw, puppy...” His voice goes smushed and muffled as he kisses Miles _there_ , slips his tongue into his ass, his stubble scratching Miles' soft skin.

“No...Peter...” Miles pleads with him, dazed from getting his nutt, disbelieving that it's Peter's big hot tongue rolling in and out of his tensing asshole, tasting his ass, probing deep and determined like he's licking cream out of a donut. 

Peter's taking his time when he finally mounts Miles again, gives him his penis again, all slow about it as he sinks into him, his wet mouth rubbing against Miles' neck and shoulder.

"Sweetest little pussy," Peter groans, panting hot breath on the back of Miles' neck. "So fucking tight. Taste so good. So - " His breath huffs out of him as he thrusts, his hips slapping Miles' ass slow and firm. "So fucking tight on my dick, baby."

Miles bites the duvet, whinging as Peter's penis nails him deep, he shudders as his ass gives a twinge, his anus trying to clench on Peter's penis plunging through the tight ring, more slick greasing everything.

"Oh yeah, take it for me like that, puppy," Peter says. "Just like that. Let me fuck that little pussy."

Miles' eyes roll back as Peter rumbles in his ear and Peter's cock slots roughly into his asshole, Miles' lips slippery wet and parted as he noisily takes it.

“You want me to pull out?” Peter pants later, when he's heavy along Miles' back, caging Miles from above so Miles feels small and safe under the alpha.

“If I don't pull out...I'm gonna knot you,” Peter says, grunting low, his thrusts getting choppy.

“Yes,” Miles manages to say.

“Yes, you want it?” Peter says.

“ _Yes_ ,” Miles pleads. 

Peter groans low and satisfied. His hips jerk with rough animal spasms. 

The knot is still an unpleasant shock even right after an orgasm, and Peter has to clamp his teeth to Miles' neck quickly to calm him down.

“You okay?” Peter asks breathlessly after he's got them on their sides.

“Yeah.”

They're both panting and sweaty, both kind of shaken.

Miles is hard. Peter finds out when he strokes his hand over Miles' belly. 

Peter tugs him gently. He licks Miles' neck where he bit it.

Miles draws a sharp breath as he tries to move his hips and the knot tugs deep inside.

“Don't move too much, baby,” Peter murmurs, stroking his fist on Miles' cock, pressing his hips into Miles' ass. “Just like this.”

It almost hurts to try and come with Peter's knot inside him. Miles keeps trying to clench on the penis inside him, the ring of muscle is all stretched on the root of Peter's cock.

“Peter - ” Miles says, his voice high and reedy, his hand on Peter's jogging arm. _I can't_ he wants to say. He's so hard but he can't come. His dribbling penis has made Peter's fist slippery wet. 

"It's okay, baby," Peter murmurs. "Come on."

Peter goes on sliding his fist briskly up and down, the wet sloppy sound of it embarrassingly unambiguous.

Tears spring to Miles' eyes as he starts to come.

“Good, Miles,” Peter's saying, jerking him through it. “That's so good, baby.”

*

“It would suck if some super-villain broke in to attack you right now, huh?”

“Yeah, no, wouldn't be the most convenient timing.”

Miles reaches his hand back carefully, curious to feel where they're connected. Peter goes still and lets him feel around.

“Does it feel weird?” Miles says, touching the base of Peter's cock where it's buried in him.

“Not for me.” Peter places his hand on Miles' ass cheek, spreading it gently so Miles' fingers can reach more. It's still sticky and slimy in the cleft of his ass. Miles touches where he's stretched around Peter, the tough slippery ring of muscle. It feels kind of numb and Miles isn't sure he likes touching it. He takes his hand away again.

There's thin dawn light coming from the windows in the living room. The light in the hallway is still on. It's hard to believe it's only been one night.

“I feel better now,” Miles says drowsily, his eyes falling closed.

Peter licks his neck again, licks him behind his ear, the way wolves do.

Miles wakes up when Peter's sliding out of him, but Peter shushes him and folds the blanket over him and Miles is soon asleep again.

*


	5. Chapter 5

It's early still, not yet eight o'clock, the sunlight bright through the leaves of the sycamore tree that stands outside Miles' apartment building.

Miles checks inside the brown paper Starbucks bag to make sure the bacon and egg muffin Peter bought him survived the zap to his universe.

“And drink plenty of water today,” Peter says, picking up the conversation all harried and distracted, like they haven't just stepped through a rip in spacetime. “I'm talking two to three liters.” He keeps looking up and down the street, tense like he might have to duck out of sight any minute.

“You know you look shady as hell,” Miles says mildly, taking a big bite of muffin.

Peter squints at him, the dappled green-golden light shifting over his face.

“You want some of this?” Miles says around his mouthful.

“No. Go on, go.” Peter nudges Miles towards the stoop.

Miles swallows, tucks the muffin away into the bag. “You gonna come see me later?” he says hopefully.

“ _No, I'm not gonna -_ ” Peter grimaces, takes a steadying breath. “We talked about this. About how this was a _one time thing?_ ” He says this last part under his breath, looking around the street again.

“Okay.” Miles shrugs. He turns and starts climbing the steps. Peter grabs him by the back of his hoodie before he can get far and hauls him back down.

“Hold it. Don't just say _okay_ like that.”

“Like what?” Miles says innocently.

Peter grips the nape of Miles' neck to show he means business. “One. Time. This was a very special set of circumstances - ”

“Technically it'd still be under the umbrella of this _one time_ though, right? If anything else happened today? Because we already - you know - this morning - ”

“ _Miles._ ”

“Okay, okay.” Miles looks away. “For real though. Thank you. For...” He trails off, smiling all dopey as he looks down at the crumpled Starbucks bag. He shrugs again. “You know. For...helping me out?”

Peter groans and scrubs his hand through his hair. “Don't thank me. Go. And remember to -”

“Remember to tell my parents everything, I got it,” Miles finishes. He pauses. “...probably not everything though, right?”

“Hilarious,” Peter says flatly.

“I'm seriously gonna have to stay shut up in my room until my scent's back to normal?” Miles says. 

“Should be back to normal by tomorrow,” Peter says.

“But until then, I mean. There's the whole day... Me, alone in my room...” Miles raises his eyebrows at Peter meaningfully. 

Peter just nudges Miles up the stoop. “ _Go_.”

Miles waits til he's reached the door before calling over his shoulder, “I'll text you later!”

He turns his key and slips inside before Peter can answer.

*

Ten texts and two voicemails and still Peter's ignoring him.

Miles throws his phone down on the bed. He didn't think Peter had been serious with all his talk about _no more_ and it being a one time thing.

Miles grabs his phone up again:

_Are you serious ??!! I'm dying and you're cool with that??_

*

Peter finally cracks at around 9pm. 

He must have been about to go on patrol because he shows up wearing his suit.

Miles hears the quiet tap at the window, turns and sees Spider-man peaking in the gap under the blinds. Miles leaps up from the bed and lands by the window, snaps the blinds up so hard they rattle. He tugs the window up and Peter slips inside noiselessly.

“My parents are in the kitchen,” Miles whispers, gesturing over his shoulder. “I thought you weren't gonna come!”

Peter carefully eases the window down, giving Miles a quick once-over then sweeping a look around the room, the lenses of Spider-man's eyes peering around expressively. Miles had time to cleaned up a little since he got Peter's cave-in text saying he was coming over.

“Well, you don't look like you're dying,” Peter says.

“You weren't texting me back!” Miles says. 

They're keeping their voices down, both of them tracking the sounds of Miles' mom and dad in the kitchen.

“I've been going crazy,” Miles says.

“Yeah, well, don't get any ideas.” Peter gives Miles a gentle push in the chest to get him to back up. “I'm just checking up on you.”

Miles' face falls. “Seriously?”

“They, ah. They keep you cooped up in here all day?” Peter looks over towards the bed and Miles flushes hot.

“Sorry if it - kinda stinks -” Miles shoots a quick look at the bed himself, checking he hasn't left any tissues lying around. His laptop which he's spent most of the day jerking off to is over on his desk, and the underwear he's soiled with lubricant are in his laundry hamper in the corner.

Other than bathroom breaks and meals, he's been in here on lockdown since morning, since the conversation at the kitchen table with his mom and dad. 

Peter walks over to the desk, an unreal figure straight out of a comic book in primary red and blue. He looks too large to be in Miles' small bedroom. Miles can't take his eyes off him.

In the kitchen, Miles' mom walks over to the sink, turns the tap on, washes something.

Peter pauses next to the bed. He bats Miles' pillow with his hand and flops it over, revealing a crumpled tissue squashed underneath. 

Miles feels a rush of embarrassment. 

Peter lays the pillow back in place with an almost placid attitude and turns to face Miles.

“I should go,” he says.

“No!” Miles springs forward to intercept him before he can head back to the window. “C'mon, you just got here. I been on my own all day!”

“I gotta go on patrol, Miles -”

“We can be quick!”

There's a pause. Miles looks up into Spider-man's face. Spider-man looks back at him. 

“I - I mean -” Miles flounders.

Peter all but picks Miles up and moves him neatly to one side. “ _Not_ happening!”

“I'll find someone else, then,” Miles says, trailing Peter to the window. “You go ahead. Don't even worry about it. There are other plenty of other alphas I could -”

That's how he ends up pinned against his drafting table, Peter grinding against his butt. “Do not try that with me,” Peter grits out, like it didn't work exactly as Miles hoped.

Peter pulls off his mask roughly, drops it on the floor, gets a grip on Miles' hips with both hands, his big body hunched over Miles, rutting against him, the table wobbling, knocking Miles' pot of chisel tip markers onto the floor. Miles grips the edges of the table, panting, catching Peter's scent. He's starting to get wet.

Miles' parents have moved to the living room. They’ve turned the tv on, they’re watching some talk show. There's a ripple of audience laughter and Miles' dad says something that makes his mom laugh.

Peter backs off suddenly, his foot bumping into the trash can next to the table, knocking it over, and Miles' used tissues tumble out onto the carpet. It's embarrassing how many there are.

Miles looks down at the tissues and so does Peter.

“You just been - in here all day jerking it?” Peter says, kind of choked. Miles might be offended if he didn't detect how the trash can full of tissues has flipped some switch in Peter's brain. 

“I looked up some videos online,” Miles says boldly, wanting to provoke the man. 

Peter adjusts himself. Miles knows only too well how uncomfortable the suit's protective cup gets when you pop a boner. 

“I've never done it so many times in one day before,” Miles says.

Peter sticks his jaw out, shakes his head as he stoops to pick up his mask. “Uh huh.” He straightens, determinedly not looking at Miles, not looking at the tissues. 

“My gland-thing still hurts, kinda,” Miles says.

Peter puts his hands on his hips and just nods, his gaze fixed on a point above Miles' head.

“So. You've - You been taking care of that?” Peter clears his throat. “You been okay?”

“I thought it'd stop hurting by now.” Miles leans back against the table. “Could you...take a look at it?”

Peter's eyes snap to Miles' face. “I know what you're doing, and it's not gonna work.”

*

“ _Peter_ \- uhh - Peter -” Miles bounces fast up and down, up and down, the mattress creaking with how he's riding Peter.

“Shh, shh - not so loud. Jesus - ” Peter's face is all tensed up, he's holding Miles’ ass cheeks, one in each hand, trying to gentle the quick slapping fall of Miles' butt into his lap. He tries and fails to take the impact onto his heels on the floor, can't stop how loud the mattress is creaking with Miles' bouncing.

“You can knot me,” Miles says breathlessly, trying to toss this off casually.

“God _damn_.” Peter grips Miles' flexing thigh. “No. No way.”

“What?” Miles didn't see that coming. “Why not? You know I can take it - ” 

“Not the point,” Peter grits out.

He picks Miles up suddenly, lifts him off his hard wet cock and drops him onto his back on the bed.

Miles' mouth falls open, he's about to raise hell, then he hears what Peter's heard - footsteps coming near the bedroom door.

“No, come on - ” Miles moans, he drags his pillow over his crotch quickly, looks up and sees Peter is clinging upside-down to the ceiling.

His dad's footsteps head past the door. He can hear his dad is trying to be quiet with his tread, maybe trying not to disturb him.

Miles hears his dad go into the kitchen.

Peter lands beside the bed with only a soft thump. He has his hands over his cock and balls. Miles is too painfully horny to see the funny side to it.

He throws the pillow aside and scoots his butt to the edge of the bed, curling his legs up, showing himself to Peter, showing Peter he's ready to go again. Even if his dad comes out of the kitchen again and tries to come in here - the crazy part of Miles' brain tells him they can finish before that happens. 

Peter looks down, sees Miles all spread out ready for him. There's a moment of conflict, then Peter just looks furious with himself and he's on top of Miles and rubbing his penis against Miles' slick little hole, then sinking into it. 

“This is wrong -” Peter pants. “- in your goddamn _bedroom_ \- ”

In this pretzel position Miles is in, Peter's cock is hitting Miles' prostate. The mattress springs crunch under their hips.

“Ah - Peter, I'm gonna - I'm gonna -” Miles grabs Peter's arms.

“Yeah do it,” Peter says in a _Fuck it_ tone of voice that sounds like he’s giving something up he’d been trying to hold onto.

Miles hears the clink of a glass bottle in the kitchen, the thump of the fridge door closing, the low bass of his dad's voice saying something - the sounds are registering extra-loud, making Miles desperate and anxious as Peter's big penis is nailing him, bullying his prostate. Miles' orgasm keeps threatening to break over him, stopping short with every little sound he hears from the kitchen. 

“ _Peter_ ,” Miles whimpers. His lubricant has made Peter's dick so slippery hot, it feels so good -

Miles' dad shuffles out of the kitchen and back into the living room. He's so close to the door - the alpha of the house, he'd lose his mind if he had any idea what was going on in his son's bedroom right now - if he knew another alpha was in the house, in here with Miles, if he knew his omega son was currently getting dicked down -

Miles' body jerks and tries to curl up even more as he comes, his cocks twitching shamelessly, spitting ropes of jizz up his chest, Peter's hips still smacking into him with meaty slaps, Peter's penis still tagging his prostate while Miles orgasms, and Miles feels completely exposed and helpless as he shudders and jerks and Peter goes on fucking him.

Peter's hand is over Miles' mouth, stifling his moans.

Miles' mom and dad are having a conversation right outside, Miles can hear the couch creak as his dad sits down. He feels ashamed, his eyes rolling back, his penis drooling the last dribbles of come - why does it turn him on so much, that he has Peter secretly in here, doing this to him, while his parents have no idea?

The talk show has ended by the time Peter's creaming inside him, and Miles is anticipating his knot, but Peter pulls out of him.

“No,” Miles moans. 

“Shh, no. No way,” Peter whispers, sliding out of Miles' ass, a string of come hanging between the tip of his penis and Miles' twitching wet hole. Miles murmurs dazedly - he feels well-fucked, he can feel the creamy load Peter has left inside him, and for the first time in hours, he feels like his itch has been scratched.

Peter stands slightly unsteady on his feet, sweaty and dishevelled, his cheeks flushed, his lips pursed in a careful _o_ as he pants, trying not to be too loud. His finger and thumb grip his cock sticking out of the crotch of his suit. He holds it tight at the base under where the knot is starting to form. His cock is still hard, pointing upwards, slippery with Miles' slick. Miles can't help but stare at it jealously, hazily thinking that it belongs to him, it should be inside him. The knot is already going down.

Peter's come is oozing out of him. Miles lies there with his legs spread. Peter's looking down there, at where Miles is clenching and freshly-fucked and the evidence of what they've just done is oozing out of him.

Miles reaches down and gets the box of tissues from under his bed.

*

They get cleaned up.

Miles tosses the slimy tissues towards the pile on the floor, then he tugs his pants back up.

Out in the living room they can hear the drone of commercials.

Peter picks his mask up and goes to pull it on and Miles gets up on his knees before Peter can tug it down. He rubs his nose and mouth under Peter's jaw, licks him there, gets kind of carried away and bites him a couple times. Peter tolerates it, then he nudges Miles, the back of his hand to Miles' belly, and Miles drops back onto the bed grinning. 

Peter tugs his mask down. He swipes his gloved fingers under Miles' jaw. “You are downright dangerous when you’re in heat, you know that?”

*

Miles gets up to see Peter out the window.

“Wish I was going on patrol with you tonight,” he says, leaning on the sill. Peter clings lightly to the brickwork outside.

“You just get some _rest_.” He nudges Miles back from the window and Miles moves a little clumsy, dopey with endorphins. “And keep this closed.” 

“What, you think someone's gonna smell me and try climb up here?” Miles says. He's not trying to rile Peter up, he honestly finds it funny, the paranoia of thinking up that scenario off the cuff - but Peter doesn't laugh. He goes weirdly still for a second, then he's trying to climb back in the window.

“Woah, 'ey, you were leaving, remember?” Miles whispers, pushing his hands against Peter's chest to stop him.

“Don't say stuff like that then.” Peter grips him round the back of the neck, then he lets Miles wrestle him back out the window. 

“My dad's got a gun, you know,” Miles says.

“Oh yeah?” Peter says jokingly, darkly, as if to say _Whole lot of good that did - I just had you on your bed and he was right outside the door._

Miles' spider sense shivers, something dark and adult, muddled with sex, charging the air between them. Miles' ass gives a twinge. 

Peter turns his head aside, his body language deflating and almost sheepish.

“Just...just close the window,” he says weakly. 

“I will. Go.”

Peter sighs and starts the climb down. Miles leans out to watch him, grinning as he hears Peter mutter something that sounds like, _“...too old for this.”_

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are much appreciated ♡


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